Different
by StrawberryStoleYourCookie
Summary: In phanphics Erik almost always falls for a girl with perfect talent and who sees the man behind the mask instantly. Could Erik ever fall in love with a girl who can't hit a note and thinks he's nothing more than a wretched murderer? One-shot! Please R&R!


The girl danced across the street vigilantly, watching her every step, but she fell. She stood again swiftly, disregarding the people who stared as she practiced. Several of them were laughing at her but she ignored them. She didn't know of the criticizing eyes that watched her under a hood.

Erik was disgusted by the girl's horrid dancing. He stood off to the side of the large group of people, unwilling to get close to them. The girl fell again. Why Erik was watching her, he wasn't sure. He simply glared. The girl fell thrice more before throwing her shoes at some laughing stranger in fury. The people who watched her quickly disappeared.

"I'll show you!" She shouted angrily.

Erik had not left and he now studied her figure as she glared towards the people who bustled around her. She had long, straight blonde hair, but it was wretchedly filthy and tangled. Her once pale face was also covered in dirt. She wore a green dress but it was ripped in several places and was as soiled as the rest of her. Erik wondered if such a horrible dancer could sing at all. She kicked the dirt angrily. Finally she began to hum. It was a nice melody. A man urged her to sing.

"No…"She murmured. "I am as bad as a singer as I am at dancing."

"Sing anyway." Erik growled. For some reason he had to hear her.

"No!" She kicked the dirt again. "Who are you?!"

Erik shook his head and turned to stride away. But he turned back. "Tell me who you are." He said glaring at her from under his hood.

"I am Emilie. I will show all of you! I will! You'll see what I can do!"

Erik turned and began to leave again. "If you can do any better show me!" Emilie shouted.

"Then follow me." Erik murmured. She raised her eyebrows. Then he began to run. She ran after him. Erik had not expected her to be able to keep up, but her feet moved quickly. She stayed close behind. Finally, he stopped. They had ran into the forest and now stood in a clearing. It was winter and snow coated the ground and trees. The girl's shoes were not on her feet due to her previous spurt of anger, but she didn't look bothered. She glared at him and slowly he removed her hood. She gasped at the sight of his mask.

"You're the Phantom of the Opera!"

"Indeed."

"You're a wretched man! You're a murderer! Do you plan to kill me now?! I will fight you! I will not die helpless like those before me."

"I do not plan to kill you, girl. But you should watch what you say. Words like that are likely to call upon your gravestone."

"What did you bring me here for?!"

"You wished to see me dance."

"I already have. I was at Don Juan. I've seen you."

"Sing."

"No! I will not sing for your pleasure!"

"You will. Sing now!"

She glared at him and then began to sing. He voice was not absolutely horrible but it was certainly not good. She couldn't hit a single note as she tried to sing the Point of No Return.

"Stop!" Erik shouted at her.

"I told you I was bad at singing."

"You are worse than bad."

"So? What does it matter?"

"I will teach you."

"Why?! I will not be taught by you! You're a horrible man."

Erik glared at her and then left, disappearing completely to Emilie. She looked around herself and in a moment realized she was completely lost, having not known where she had followed him. Shaking her head, she began to walk from where she came, hoping to find her way out of the forest.

Erik found his way out of the forest with ease, not realizing the girl would be lost. He was angry with not only her, but himself. Why had he allowed himself so close to her? She hated him. After two hours, he had calmed down and it finally occurred to him. He had left a girl, no older than seventeen, without shoes in the middle of a very dense forest, and it was very unlikely she knew her way around. Why did he feel guilt? He had killed plenty of people before. This girl had defied him and he had left her to her death. Why did he want to go back and find her? Because she was unique. She had been the only girl not to cower in some way from him, not to be awed by him, but to be insolent to him. Shaking his head he headed back into the forest to find her.

Emilie was fighting her way through several bushes and she fell to the ground, scraping her elbows. She stood quickly but after two more steps, fell again thanks to a root. She looked up. She could barely see through the trees but she could tell night had fallen. Soon she wouldn't be able to see anything through the dense forest. She knew that well and began to climb a nearby tree. Pulling herself up several branches high, she relaxed and tried to sleep. She would find her way out by daylight tomorrow. She lay there for what seemed like hours but was unable to find sleep. Suddenly, she sensed a presence and sat up.

Erik was walking towards her, his mask almost glowing. Within a second he was standing on the branch she sat on. She glared at him.

"So you came back. Forgot to finish me off, I presume?"

Ferocity raged inside of him. He was trying to prevent her from dying. Very rapidly, he grabbed her wrists and wrenched her up. She screamed, unwillingly, though in shock. He slung her small body over his shoulder, and jumped down. He walked through the forest carrying her still body. He began to wonder whether he had killed her. Stopping, he placed her down to take a look at her.

Immediately, she took off. Erik was still for a moment. She had tricked the Phantom of the Opera. He sprinted after her, and reached her quickly. He forced her to the ground quickly, holding her wrists far too tightly. Suddenly, a scream erupted from her body, and a moment later she was sobbing. Erik froze. Feeling her wrist, he realized he had broken it. He looked into her eyes, and was shocked at what he saw. No longer did they hold anger and defiance. They held pain, grief, and panic. She was terrified as to what he was going to do to her.

"I'm not going to harm you. Calm down."

She didn't calm down but a moment later her eyes closed. She had blacked out. Erik sighed, and he lifted her into his arms. He carried her to his home, a small house once owned by an old man who had died unknown.

He lay her down in the one large bed, and began to wrap her wrist. After several minutes, her eyes fluttered open. At the sight of him, they instantly filled with the same trepidation as before. She looked at her wrist, which he was still wrapping. She let out a small whimper. Whether it was from fear or pain he wasn't sure. He finished it and then gently touched her face with his gloved hand. She flinched. He spoke quietly.

"Calm down. I am not going to hurt you. You need to sleep. Do not be afraid. Sleep."

She shook her head and tried to sit up. He didn't stop her. She stared at him. "Where have you brought me?" Her voice was small and fearful.

"To my home. Sleep, child."

She tried to stand, but this time Erik stopped her. He pressed her back into the bed gently. He heard a strange noise. She blinked, and her hands flew down to her stomach. Erik realized she was hungry.

"Stay here." He said gruffly. He headed into the kitchen and looked around carefully. There was little. He did not eat often. He located some bread and a bit of meat and brought it to her. She stared at it for a moment and then took it.

"Thank you," she muttered, sitting up and beginning to eat. Erik could tell she did not enjoy thanking him. She didn't like him. Why had he brought her to his house? Why didn't he allow the stubborn girl die? These things he did not have answers for? He left, shutting the door behind him. After a moment of thought he locked it. He knew she would hate him for it, since there weren't windows for her to get out of either. But she was hurt and he needed her to stay in there. It would not do to permit her to wander the house.

Erik paced around the living room, wondering what to do with the girl. Opening a drawer, he touched the Punjab lasso that lay inside. He could kill her. It would be all too easy. She was weak. She would collapse easily. He imagined her death. He imagined her neck breaking the moment he pulled the lasso taut, her eyes wide and fearful. His knees almost buckled as he remembered her eyes, so full of fear. He closed the drawer, leaving the lasso inside. He knew he wouldn't be able to kill her. Even if he did, her eyes would haunt him forever. He was broken out of his thoughts by the sound of the girl attempting to open the door. She stopped and knocked on it very softly.

"Monsieur? Please let me out." Her voice was timid. She was scared, Erik could tell. Still, Erik made no move towards the door. He simply stared at it, wondering what had brought her such a change in attitude. He realized it was probably him. His eyes, what were they filled with?

"Monsieur? Please. Don't leave me in here. Monsieur, are you listening to me? What do you plan to do with me?" Her voice was filled with too much fear. Erik was horrified at what he heard in her voice. She was not afraid he was going to kill her. She was afraid he was going to force her, invade her. His knees completely buckled and he had to catch himself to stop him from falling. Why did he feel guilt? She was too innocent, too unique. He approached the door slowly. Gradually, he opened it. She looked him in the eyes. Those eyes, so filled with fear.

"I am not going to hurt you." His voice was soft, trying to calm her. She stepped away from him, shaking her head. She pressed against the wall on the far side of the room, her eyes not leaving his. He nodded towards the bed. Her eyes got wider. Erik repeated, "I'm not going to hurt you. But you need sleep. I'm not going to hurt you."

She shook her head again. He sighed, "Get into the bed, child. I'm not going to allow you to leave when you are hurt. Come on." He walked to her and held out his hand. When she didn't take it he gripped her uninjured wrist and pulled her to the bed. Laying her down, he draped the blankets over her gently. She blinked and looked at him. He studied her filthy face. It was beautiful to him.

"Monsieur?" She murmured tentatively. He looked into her eyes. "Why are you helping me? Why do you care?"

He was silent, and then murmured to her, "Sleep, child."

"Say my name."

"What?"

"Say my name. Please."

He studied her, wondering why she wanted such a simple thing. "Emilie, sleep."

She relaxed as though this action meant everything to her. She closed her eyes and allowed sleep to encompass her.

Erik headed back into the living room, closing her door but not locking it. He shook his head. Why did he care? He had only cared for one other in the same way since…It was too hard to think her name. But Emilie…She couldn't sing or dance. She had nothing that had attracted him before. Why did he care? She had done everything _Christine_ hadn't. He cringed to think of her name, but she had submitted to him too easily. Emilie was different. She wanted to fight him, to defy him. Erik sat on the couch and after a moment he fell asleep.

He awoke several hours later at the sound of Emilie's feet hitting the floor. He sat up quickly and adjusted his mask. The door opened slowly, as though the one performing the action was afraid to make a sound. Indeed, Emilie's eyes were wide as she looked at Erik. He felt the need to approach her. He was finding it harder and harder to resist her. His eyes studied her body, lingering over each aspect until he had reached her eyes. She looked fearful once again. He saw her good hand clench into a fist. Finally, he approached her. Gently, he reached for her broken wrist and raised it, studying it. Before he could stop her, the hand he held twisted and took his. Her other hand raised and removed the glove. Erik was motionless, unused to the contact but unable to oppose it. She felt his hand, the coldness that emanated from it. She cupped it in both of hers and raised it to her face, resting her cheek against it. Finally, she dropped it and looked at him, studying his eyes.

Suddenly, she bolted for the door, throwing it open and running out into the daylight. Erik followed her quickly. They were miles from the city, and she had no idea how to get there. He caught up with her easily, and grabbed her broken wrist, jerking her back to him. She gasped in horror.

"Monsieur, if you force me back with you, I shall be nothing more than your hostage."

"Then it shall be until you choose to stay with me." He dragged her back to the house, fury raging through him, ignoring her whimpers of pain caused by the grip on her injured wrist.

Erik shoved Emilie inside the house and then threw her into the small bedroom, watching her small body slam against the floor. She lifted her head slowly and looked at him. His rage caused him temporary immunity to her eyes. He slammed the door shut and locked it angrily.

He grabbed his Punjab lasso out and clenched it into his fists to decide. His anger had not yet left him. Angrily, he swept into the room where Emilie was trying to lift herself. She gasped at the sight of the lasso. Crawling to the wall, she leaned against it and watched it horror as he walked to her. He forced the lasso around her neck, and pushed her to the ground until she was lying directly beneath him. Her hands had reached up to her neck and she stared into his eyes in terror. He pulled the lasso taut and prepared to strangle the girl.

"Monsieur!" She cried. "Monsieur, please! I won't runaway again, please!" Her voice was cut off as he pulled it tighter. Her eyes pleaded for him to stop. One of her hands released her neck and touched his cheek, attempting to calm him. His eyes softened instantly. He lessened the lasso and after a moment, pulled it off her. Her hand had not left his cheek. He rose off from her, lifted her up and laid her in the bed. She was silent as he covered her in the blankets.

"Mademoiselle, I'm sorry. Sleep." The fear remained in her eyes. Softly he spoke her name, "Emilie."

She relaxed but did not close her eyes. He sat on the edge of the bed, and after a moment of hesitation he stroked her petite hand. She relaxed a bit further and closed her eyes. She was asleep in an instant. He watched her for a moment before heading back to the living room. He sat on the couch and for hours he held his head in his hands overwhelmed by grief, regret, and guilt; things he had seldom felt before.

He sat until he heard screams coming from where Emilie slept. Quickly, he ran in. Emilie was screaming, trying to remove an invisible rope from around her neck. Without thinking, he began to stroke her hair, attempting to soothe her. She finally stopped screaming, dropping her hands. Her eyes opened and she looked at him.

"You are safe, Emilie. You are safe. I won't hurt you again, I swear. Calm down, Emilie."

Her hand lifted up slowly to her head and she grasped his hand, pulling it down to her face, then against her chest, resting his hand on top of her beating heart, her hand on top of his. Erik was in shock by the contact she was allowing to happen. He had never felt this before. They gazed at each other for what seemed like centuries until Emilie's eyes finally closed in sleep. He did not remove his hand, but left it there, unable to move. At last, he removed his hand and backed out of the room.

He did not shut the door and he collapsed on to the couch in complete and utter confusion. Why did she allow him to touch her when she reviled him, when he had tried to kill her? Why did he allow it when she offered no ability to sing or dance and therefore should not attract him? She wasn't even essentially beautiful, covered in dirt and grime. She did not compare to the one he had once loved, but that was what made him want her. Did he love Emilie? He wasn't sure. Why had he tried to kill her? She had tried to leave him. But did he even know what was going on in her mind? What if she had been scared or embarrassed from him? She had begged him not to kill her. She was terrified of him. Why did she touch him? Why did she allow his hands on her breasts? Why did this girl confuse him so? And what was in a name? Why did she love to hear it so much? Her own name, she had asked him to say, but she had not asked for his. Did she know? Did anyone? She couldn't. Did she simply forget to ask? Or was there much more meaning to it than that? Why did this girl confuse him so? Was she a devil, in an attempt to trick him in everyway, but to haunt him with guilt as well? Why was she so different? Different from any human he had ever seen? Why?

He had pondered over each question for over an hour now, and he heard the creak of her getting up out of the bed. He looked up as her thin frame stepped through the door way. They stared at each other a moment before he spoke.

"Why?"

"I don't know." She said the three words with such certainty that Erik was sure she could read his mind and knew everything he wanted to ask, she just didn't know the answers. He studied her for a moment. She walked to him without hesitation and sat down next to him. Her gaze was so fierce he had to force himself not to recoil.

"You say you won't hurt me. But am I still your hostage?"

"No."

"Then I'm free to leave?"

"Yes, but I won't be helping you if you leave."

"What do you mean?"

"Could you find your way?"

"Then I am still trapped here?"

"Are you?"

"You're a sick, twisted man."

"Where did that come from?"

"A sick, twisted girl."

"You are strange."

"I know."

"Sing for me again."

She gave him a look he was unable to read.

"Please, Emilie."

"But I hit all the wrong notes."

"I'll teach you."

"What if I don't want to learn?"

"I thought you did?"

"I don't know anymore."

"You don't know?"

"No."

Erik studied her carefully. They were silent, staring into each other's eyes. Emilie began to move close to Erik as he was still. Gradually, their faces reached the point where they were inches apart. And then, rather tentatively, Emilie kissed him gently. Her eyes were closed but his were open in shock. His lack of response did not discourage her and she did not pull back. After a moment, Erik shut his eyes and kissed her back. Her hands folded around his neck and his around her waist, pulling her closer. After what seemed like centuries, they pulled apart. They both looked completely lost and utterly confused.

"Um…" Emilie muttered. "I'm not entirely sure…Did I just…Oh no…"

Erik began to laugh, suddenly becoming very giddy. She laughed with him and they both smiled at each other. Emilie kissed him again, and this time he kissed back immediately. They continued like this for several minutes before finally Emilie pulled back and looked at her wrist. Erik frowned, and took it. He pulled off the bandages to find it slightly swollen. She winced.

"Stay here." Erik walked off into a farther point of the house. He came back after a moment with new bandages and a damp cold rag. Carefully, he had her hold the rag on her wrist for several minutes before wrapping it with the bandage. Then he lifted her chin to look into her eyes.

"Emilie. I cannot offer you proper care for this here. You shall have to return to the city and see a doctor. After that…It is your choice whether you come back to me or not. I'll be waiting for you every night at the edge of the forest."

She nodded, her eyes wide and he lifted her. He ran fast, and within an hour they were back in the city. Dropping her off at the doctor he disappeared quickly, so as not to draw attention to her self.

The doctor wrapped her wrist and said it was not a bad break and would heal soon. She did not return home, for she barely had one and when night fell she ran to the forest edge to wait.

Erik was there, and took her into his arms. "Are you sure you want to come back with me?"

"Yes. I'm sure."

"If you ever change your mind…"

"I won't."

Erik smiled, and with one more shared kiss, they swept off into the forest, to reach his home, to begin a new life.


End file.
